Imagine you are a beautiful piece of fine China. You sit on the shelf with the other pieces; cups and plates, salad forks and butter knives. People admire you as they walk by. Life on the shelf is interrupted only briefly by special dinners for important guests. You are a part of a set, and all the pieces of China are all relied on for particular qualities you all share, you know what your place is, what specific quality you possess and therefor offer.

But then one day you are accidentally dropped, breaking into a thousand dangerously sharp shards. In the bustle, you are swept under the rug so the guests don’t have to see you. After dinner is over, you’re brought out from under the rug. Some of your smaller pieces can’t be found, but you get glued back together as carefully as possible. You bear visible scars, but you are also fundamentally weakened. Questions plague your mind; will the glue hold? can I still be stacked with the rest of the China? will I ever be admired again?

No matter how skilled the craftsman who put you back together, regardless of how much money was put into your repair, you know that you will never be the same as you once were. Do you want to be put back on the shelf at all, or do you just want to be put back on the floor? You care so much for the other pieces of China that you don’t particularly want to be put back on the shelf, you don’t want to sully the aesthetic uniformity. The trash can looks more appealing than the shelf; after all, you just wouldn’t fit in on the shelf you once called home…

Church is that place where we don’t hide our scars, where some are China but others handcrafted pottery. All have scars, so none are out of place. We are admired not for our perfection but because we are products of the Owner’s hand.

When people are deployed repeatedly and come home to awkward glances and uncomfortable silences, can we blame them for only wanting to return to combat instead of coming (all the way) home? It is not merely an addiction, it is a fundamental shift in identity – soldiers can feel the difference in their very souls. In these circumstances, we at home need not only to remind them that they are still valuable and “normal,” we also need to be honest about ways in which we are all scarred and shattered.

Confession must take on a whole new meaning, not just for those who have killed in combat, but those of us who instinctively think that they are not even indirectly a part of that violence. Heschel said that in a representative democracy, some are guilty but all are responsible. We all need to confess, we all need to acknowledge the collective nature of the responsibility for war we all share. We are all damaged goods, all touched by the horrors of war. If we can convey that reality, maybe then the rest of the broken plates and cups would feel more at home with us than they do in the shattering chaos of war.

In this icon, Martin is depicted in his military attire with a sword that has been broken by the power of the Cross. Fr. Bill commented that he had never before used so much gold leaf in writing an icon, a testimony to the richness of character we find in the life of Martin. As a part of the commissioning process, I was asked to write a short reflection on Martin’s life and significance, which you can find below. The complete prayer card can be found on Fr. Bill’s website; www.fatherbill.org.

   I wrote the following commentary for an icon that Fr. Bill McNichols did some time ago of the patron saint of soldiers and chaplains; Martin, Bishop of Tours. Martin was reluctantly acclaimed bishop of Tours (in France) on July 4th, 370 CE. The townsfolk had led him into the city under the auspices of needing to have a sick man healed. When he reached the town center, the peasants proclaimed loudly and in one accord that he would be their bishop. Some other religious were present and muttered their doubts, but were scolded so harshly by the people that they raised no further objections.

Fr. Bill, accomplished iconographer in the Roman Catholic Church, asked me to write a short reflection on Martin so that he could transform the beautiful icon to the left into a prayer card for Christians hoping to learn more about this inspiring man of God. Below you can read what he and I came up with. You can order cards on his website; www.fatherbill.org.

I have been asked to lead a time of prayer in a couple of weeks during Sunday worship in which we will pray over a young man who has joined the Air Force and shipping off to basic and eventually his assignment. I have agreed to lead the time of prayer, but I’m wondering how I go about praying for him with me being a Christian pacifist. Any suggestions? I have spent significant time thinking about, practicing, and experiencing ways this has happened.  So I very much value your opinion on this.  I’m open to hearing anything, even, “what’s the big deal, of course you pray for him.”

I think that it would be a mistake to focus on the bad aspects of the military, though there are many. But there are some things that do build up and strengthen those who join the military, especially boot camp. It can give people confidence, teaches them camaraderie, and fulfills their desire to be a part of something bigger than self. It takes courage, especially in a time of war, to enlist. These things are all things we can be thankful for and acknowledge (if you like) in praying for him in church.

I also know that we sometimes want to qualify our support and make it known in some way that we have some reservations about military service, but I don’t know if a prayer is the place for this. Instead, maybe pray that he be led to always do the right thing, no matter how hard it might be. Ask that God continue to strengthen him in his moral discernment, to always follow his conscience and (if yours is a “high church” tradition) the teachings and doctrines of faith.

Finally, i think it is important to ‘mark’ the person that he is before he is trained to do violence. You and I might agree that what he is about to do might compromise his moral or spiritual integrity. Having a moment naming him as wholly (and holy) one person now might give him something to return to if and when he encounters things that challenge the moral framework I hope your church has constructed for him to rely on. Problem is, i don’t know how this might be accomplished. This is not something that he needs to be aware of himself, but something referencing the person he is within his family (father, brother, son, etc.?) could serve this purpose. Did he always take his kids to baseball games? Was he always doing his chores for his parents? Did he and his siblings have anything particularly unique they did together? I think he might need that sensory memory in case he does something later that makes him feel less whole (and holy); something to return to, however mundane. i.e., even if he has to kill in war, he can return to wholeness by sharing baseball games with friends, or that thing he does with siblings, etc.

Most importantly, keep it brief, don’t make it a big deal. He is doing something important, but not incredibly more important than, say harvesting our food or educating our children. All vocations deserve respect, but none more than necessary. We venerate our service members too much sometimes, and that can have disastrous consequences. The longer he is the center of attention, the more this can become ingrained in our conscience. Keep our prayers short and our confessions long, if you ask me (or mewithoutYou, the band that I stole that line from).

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Every year on the 11th of November, the United States celebrates Veterans Day, a day we memorialize those who served our country in the Armed Forces. CBS did a study in 2007 which found that in 2005, an average of 17 veterans killed themselves every single day. As for active duty service members, in 2009 and 2010, there were more suicides than there were combat fatalities in Iraq and Afghanistan combined (the data for 2011 is not yet released). In the midst of the most prolonged conflict our nation has ever undertaken, it would seem that care and concern for our veterans would be absolutely central to our public discourse, in both the political realm and the ecumenical realm.

West Point ethicist Lt. Col. Pete Kilner has said that training our sons and daughters to sacrifice their normal reluctance to killing carries with it the obligation to help soldiers cope. Our national and religious leaders are obligated to turn their attention to the social plight of soldiers and veterans. This obligation does not recede during an election year; our pastors and presidents will always have a responsibility to turn their eyes toward the people that Jesus himself prayed forgiveness for on the Cross. Our concern is not to emerge solely from the honor owed them for their service—it is a theological imperative.

Combat veterans not only have been falling on their own swords more frequently than have been falling to the sword—they have also failed to return their swords fully to their sheaths. Two recent news stories illustrate the urgency of turning our attention toward the mental and spiritual health of those who conduct violence in our name. In one, on New Years Day, a park ranger was killed after attempting to enforce a vehicle checkpoint at Mount Rainier National Park in Washington. Shortly thereafter, a serial killer stabbed four homeless men near my own home of record in Orange Country, California. In each story, the perpetrators were Iraq War veterans.

“NO MORE CAN WE SIMPLY FAIL TO SEE THE DEEP NEED OF THOSE RIGHT THERE IN THE PEWS NEXT TO US OR SITTING BESIDE US IN CLASS OR AT WORK.”

Stories like these are becoming startlingly common, and they point to the extreme urgency to take our care for our nations service members much more seriously. Service members make up less than 1 percent of the U.S. population, so it doesn’t surprise me when I learn that war and military service don’t make it onto the radar of our presidential candidates or religious leaders. But the Church is called to have a special concern for the least of those among us. We must not remain silent, no more can we simply fail to see the deep need of those right there in the pews next to us or sitting beside us in class or at work.

In the first week of November last year, Richard Land of The Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention and Jim Wallis of Sojourners did a series of interviews speculating together about what issues would be prioritized in the evangelical world; immigration, the economy, care for creation, energy independence, world hunger, even gay rights and abortion made their list. Evangelicals will have a lot on their plate this year.

Disappointingly, nowhere in their discussions did the matter of our veterans returning from war find voice. In the shadow of Veterans Day, in our eleventh year at war, two prominent evangelicals, representing both ends of the political spectrum, were silent about the human cost of war. Their omission was a dangerous oversight.

We must always remind those in elected (and ecclesial) office that past and present military personnel not only deserve our attention, it is something they desperately need. This year Veterans Day falls on a Sunday, less than a week after Election Day—a great reminder that the plight of our military personnel existed well before the elections and will continue well past them.

I discovered, through work I do for Centurion’s Guild, that before being known as Veterans Day, Nov. 11 was Armistice Day—a day of mourning the fact that WWI failed to be “The War to End All Wars.” But even before that, it was the feast day for the patron saint of soldiers and chaplains, Martin of Tours. Martin served nearly 25 years in the Roman military and saw how government worked, having worked closely with Caesar Julian in the Praetorian Guard. In the end, he laid down his sword and became a priest, convinced that the best way to inaugurate change is not just through the political process, but with proactive Christian charity. This year, don’t let the immediacy of the election cycle drown out the urgency of the few, the pained, these war-torn warriors.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,400 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

“Abolitionism: A Christian Response to War?”

discussion by Enda McDonagh, Stanley Hauerwas, and Michael Baxter

Keynote Panel, From Death to Life Conference

The Notre Dame Center for Ethics and Culture

September 27, 2002

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Today’s readings remind us of Martin of Tours, who was born in 316, was acclaimed Bishop of Tours on July 4^th, 370, and ministered there until his death on November 11^th, 396. Before the United States memorialized her veterans, before the world recognized Armistice Day, the Church celebrated a conscientious objector.

Martin, named after the god of war, was conscripted into the Roman army at a young age. His stature and appearance landed him in the most elite unit of all; the Praetorian Guard, Caesar’s personal security detachment. Everyone in his unit wore a beautiful white lambskin cape to signify their prestige and proximity to the most powerful man in the known world.

His growing interest in the newly legalized Christian religion made his a reluctant service, but one he nevertheless bore dutifully. Just a few years into his military obligation, Martin scandalously split his cape in order to clothe a freezing beggar in Amien, almost certainly despite the cold stares of his comrades. That night, he dreamt of Jesus, telling the heavenly host, “Here is my servant Martin, not even baptized, who has clothed me.”

Though Martin was baptized days later, unlike many soldier saints before him, he did not leave the military. Instead, he remained on for almost 25 years without having to draw the sword in battle. That all changed at [“Verms”] in 356. As Caesar Julian, his commander in chief, stood before him, Martin said loudly “I have served you long enough, let me now serve God. I am a soldier of Christ, I will not fight.”

Martin would go on to become an enormously popular priest and bishop, known for healing a great number of peasants across the French countryside, even raising up the dead. The cape he split in half to clothe Christ would be preserved by an order of monks in Tours. The sanctuary in which they housed it became known as a chapele (from Medieval Latin capella, literally “little cape”), which is the root word for both chapel and chaplain.

Every time you marvel at the beauty of the world’s chapels, remember Martin. This soldier of Christ reminds us that the Kingdom transcends our earthly oaths and allegiances; that Jesus can be found anywhere – in the guise of a freezing beggar, and in the uniform of a Christian soldier. Christ shattered the power of the sword over Martin’s imagination, and He can do the same for us. It is fitting that this conscientious participant, this man who knew well the thin red line between God and country, between faith and service, leads us all to engage more meaningfully and lovingly to those who serve in wars we oppose.

If we allow the light within us to break forth like the dawn, healing for the hidden wounds of war-weary soldiers is sure to follow quickly thereafter.

*Part of an interview series with Duke University Divinity School faculty looking at the hidden wounds of war and the Church’s resources that can help those in recovery.

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Veterans today commit suicide at the highest rate in our nation’s history, have startling rates of prescription drug and alcohol abuse, and are often thought of as “damaged goods.” Our society must accept the responsibility of acknowledging and confronting the moral fragmentation that our service members suffer as a result of their experiences in war. After the Yellow Ribbon at Duke Divinity School is an opportunity for the ecclesial, academic, and martial communities in particular to listen to and learn from those who endure the burden of doing violence in our name.

We invite practitioners of all disciplines, from music and the arts to theology and mental health, to respond to the challenge presented by the plight of soldiers and veterans in our midst. We want to work together to improve our efforts at prevention and reconstitution, and overcome this tragic epidemic. After the Yellow Ribbon is designed to stimulate conversation between the church, military and academic communities so that all might approach service members and veterans as human beings, and more fully understand and heal the unseen wounds of war (including PTSD and moral injury).

Additional resources:

• http://sites.duke.edu/aftertheyellowribbon
• https://divinity.duke.edu/after-the-yellow-ribbon
• http://www.facebook.com/dukemiliteschristi
• http://www.twitter.com/dukemilchristi